I really, really hate packing. I know that moving is going to be a good thing. I know that...I do. But at the moment...the idea of putting one more thing in a box or a suitcase sickens me. I just can't bring myself to do it. At all. I just have no motivation to do it right now.
It isn't often that I feel lazy. Normally...I can't stop myself from finding something to do. And despise spending long periods of time just sitting doing nothing. Except for today apparently. I actually feel like something is wrong with me. It's so...weird.
Even writing this, I'm having a hard time finding the motivation to finish anything...
So...yeah...that is all...
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
My First Triathlon (and race report...)
AKA...Holy Shit I actually worse spandex in public and allowed myself to be photographed.
So...as someone that normally gets a little nervous about things like racing (shut up Jeff)...I was...to say the least...a bit apprehensive yesterday after finishing the relay for the Oly. However...after the first decent night sleep in about a week...I woke up refreshed and ready to race...at 1:45am. I then rolled over...realized what time it was, and decided to sleep a little more.
So when I woke up the second time...I once again was feeling quite good about the day ahead.
Once I finally arrived, had a second cup of coffee, and set up my transition...there wasn't too much time to stand around a get nervous. We headed down to the swim start, I warmed up a little, which relaxed me.
The swim was mostly uneventful. My form (which I've been working on a lot lately) felt good. I knew I wouldn't be the fastest person out there...but my goal was to get out of the water...and it would be nice if I wasn't the last person to do so. And I wasn't.
I ran to transition...got to business...and rolled out on my bike. Now...for those that don't know me...I'm not the greatest cyclist. By far my weakest discipline. And I've had a few...problems...falling over...sliding down a hill, etc. So this, of course, was the leg that I was most concerned about. I was about 2 miles into the ride when I was thinking to myself "why is it I'm doing this again? Oh yeah...because it's fun." I reached the first big down hill, and saw how steep it was. I nearly peed in my tri shorts...but then realized that there wasn't anyone in front of me, and I could see that it didn't end on a huge curve...so I went for it. Didn't touch my brakes at all. Ed...you were right...it felt amazing. There were some other hills that I was more cautious going down, but I still made it. There were several instances that I had to tell myself to just keep going...and I did. I ended up walking up a couple of hills...but I'm ok with that.
For those of you that were cheering for me as I came in off the bike...I'm sure you saw the massive smile on my face. The warm welcome you gave me helped...but only because of what your cheering meant...I had successfully survived the bike leg. Now all I had to do was run 3 miles...no big deal. Oh...excuse me...3.1.
The run went ok. Not the greatest run that I've ever had...but I still finished it. I walked a little more than I had planned, or hoped to...but again...I'm ok with that. It did make me feel a little better that a couple of people were surprised to see me back so soon.
The finish was awesome with the sea of green waiting for the rest of us to finish....and again...I had a huge smile on my face. My goal for today was to simply finish the race. I didn't want to be the last one to cross the finish line...but as long as I crossed...it didn't really matter.
A huge thanks to everyone that cheered today. There were times I don't think I could have done it without you...nor would I have wanted to. Seriously...after the bike leg...the amount of noise you made was amazing, and not only did I have a huge smile on my face, I had tears in my eyes. Thank GOD I was wearing sunglasses...because I don't think I could have lived down crying during my first tri.
A special thanks to Jeff, who was the first one that urged me to start training for a tri, and has been a huge support the past couple of months from giving me advice on any topic imaginable to literally picking me up off the ground...several times...and telling me to shut up when I needed to :)
I know that I have a lot of work to do before the next race...but I'm definitely looking forward to it. :)
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Yes, I take my coffee black...
After an insanely long day that began around 4:30 this morning...I now can't sleep.
When I finally rolled out of bed this morning, as usual, coffee was the first thing on my mind. Since I was still in a hotel room...and the stuff they give you in the room isn't actually coffee...merely hot brown liquid that has caffeine in it...I thought I would call room service and have them send up a pot of coffee.
I dial "0" and a very polite woman greets me. I ask to have coffee sent to the room. Only to find that room service doesn't start serving until 6am. It's only 5 at this point.
My hopes of semi-decent coffee have been smashed...and so early in the day.
So...for lack of a better option...I decide to make do with the fake stuff until I can get a decent cup with my breakfast.
I should probably take this opportunity to mention that I'm a bit of a coffee snob...if that wasn't blatantly obvious. I drink coffee every day. EVERY DAY. And I am a snob about it. I like strong, black coffee. The stronger, the better. This, I blame on my brother. Whose coffee is more frequently compared to sludge than anything you should actually digest. But we still drink it anyway. In my role as a coffee snob...I must say, I'm a home brewer. I'm not a huge fan of Starbucks, and only put up with it if there isn't a better alternative. So really...it's one step above hotel room coffee...or break room coffee. If I have to buy coffee somewhere, I'd much prefer an independent coffee house...the quaint mom and pop shop. But again...I'd much rather just make a cup myself at home.
So finally...breakfast time arrives. My co-worker and I decided yesterday that we would return to the deli where we had eaten lunch the day before for breakfast. It was cheap...the food was good...and it was only a block from where we would be doing the training session today. So we arrive early...and order. The one negative thing about this place was that it took foreeeeeeeeeever for the food to be prepared. Ok...so perhaps I was starving and was cranky. But still...it seemed like it took 30 minutes to make one sandwich. When I finally order...we decided to eat there. We had some time...so no need to rush. We take a sit at a table in the corner, and the woman working behind the counter was very delighted to bring the food to our table for us. She had a huge smile on her face and everything. However...when she brought my large cup of coffee to the table...she had automatically put in cream and sugar. I'm not sure how much sugar was in it...I didn't even attempt a taste. There was enough cream in the cup of coffee that it looked more like...well...milk. Gross.
So, I politely tell her that I didn't want cream or sugar in my coffee, I take it black. She actually looked a little horrified. "You drink your coffee black?" But she didn't question my request, and promptly brought me another cup of coffee. The coffee was ok...but nothing spectacular. But it apparently did the trick considering the amount of time I've been awake.
I would also like to take this time to mention that if at all possible, I urge anyone and everyone to avoid the Newark Airport. It was...I do believe...the most awful experience I've had in an airport. Now...I've traveled quite a bit...and have been through several airports...and this is by far the worst experience ever. They attempt to look polite and orderly by having people in maroon jackets standing about ready and willing to answer your questions for you. However, this would really only be successful if these people knew the answers to your questions, or could do something more productive than point you in a direction that really ended up being the wrong direction anyway.
The one bright spot was as I was in line to go through security, a nice fellow from Norway struck up a conversation with me. He had been on a plane for 8 hours...and at this point was happy to be able to speak to anyone...about anything. The fact that I had heard of the band he'd flown across the Atlantic to see was merely a bonus for him I'm sure. Although this pleasantry was short lived. As we both made it through security without being detained further, we realized that we were in separate terminals. Ah well. Fair well Peter...I hope you enjoy your concerts.
The next few hours passed somewhat pleasantly with a phone call to my dad. Not that the phone call was bad....it was quite enjoyable to be able to talk to him. The setting, however, could have used a little work. Oh well...I shouldn't complain too much about airports because I'll be spending enough time in them over the course of the next week that I should probably get used to it. And I should probably get comfortable with the idea that this might not be the worst experience possible.
So where does this long journey end? After my flight was delayed 3 times...accompanied with a gate change at the last minute...I finally arrived back in DC. Every time I leave my fair city...I always miss it. The sight of the Capital always puts a smile on my face...because then I know that I am home. This time I was able to see it from the air...quite lovely really.
And now...after a long day...and more coffee than I probably should have drank...I've been up for 20 hours...and I'm nearly wide awake.
Oye. It's a good thing I don't have to go to work tomorrow...
When I finally rolled out of bed this morning, as usual, coffee was the first thing on my mind. Since I was still in a hotel room...and the stuff they give you in the room isn't actually coffee...merely hot brown liquid that has caffeine in it...I thought I would call room service and have them send up a pot of coffee.
I dial "0" and a very polite woman greets me. I ask to have coffee sent to the room. Only to find that room service doesn't start serving until 6am. It's only 5 at this point.
My hopes of semi-decent coffee have been smashed...and so early in the day.
So...for lack of a better option...I decide to make do with the fake stuff until I can get a decent cup with my breakfast.
I should probably take this opportunity to mention that I'm a bit of a coffee snob...if that wasn't blatantly obvious. I drink coffee every day. EVERY DAY. And I am a snob about it. I like strong, black coffee. The stronger, the better. This, I blame on my brother. Whose coffee is more frequently compared to sludge than anything you should actually digest. But we still drink it anyway. In my role as a coffee snob...I must say, I'm a home brewer. I'm not a huge fan of Starbucks, and only put up with it if there isn't a better alternative. So really...it's one step above hotel room coffee...or break room coffee. If I have to buy coffee somewhere, I'd much prefer an independent coffee house...the quaint mom and pop shop. But again...I'd much rather just make a cup myself at home.
So finally...breakfast time arrives. My co-worker and I decided yesterday that we would return to the deli where we had eaten lunch the day before for breakfast. It was cheap...the food was good...and it was only a block from where we would be doing the training session today. So we arrive early...and order. The one negative thing about this place was that it took foreeeeeeeeeever for the food to be prepared. Ok...so perhaps I was starving and was cranky. But still...it seemed like it took 30 minutes to make one sandwich. When I finally order...we decided to eat there. We had some time...so no need to rush. We take a sit at a table in the corner, and the woman working behind the counter was very delighted to bring the food to our table for us. She had a huge smile on her face and everything. However...when she brought my large cup of coffee to the table...she had automatically put in cream and sugar. I'm not sure how much sugar was in it...I didn't even attempt a taste. There was enough cream in the cup of coffee that it looked more like...well...milk. Gross.
So, I politely tell her that I didn't want cream or sugar in my coffee, I take it black. She actually looked a little horrified. "You drink your coffee black?" But she didn't question my request, and promptly brought me another cup of coffee. The coffee was ok...but nothing spectacular. But it apparently did the trick considering the amount of time I've been awake.
I would also like to take this time to mention that if at all possible, I urge anyone and everyone to avoid the Newark Airport. It was...I do believe...the most awful experience I've had in an airport. Now...I've traveled quite a bit...and have been through several airports...and this is by far the worst experience ever. They attempt to look polite and orderly by having people in maroon jackets standing about ready and willing to answer your questions for you. However, this would really only be successful if these people knew the answers to your questions, or could do something more productive than point you in a direction that really ended up being the wrong direction anyway.
The one bright spot was as I was in line to go through security, a nice fellow from Norway struck up a conversation with me. He had been on a plane for 8 hours...and at this point was happy to be able to speak to anyone...about anything. The fact that I had heard of the band he'd flown across the Atlantic to see was merely a bonus for him I'm sure. Although this pleasantry was short lived. As we both made it through security without being detained further, we realized that we were in separate terminals. Ah well. Fair well Peter...I hope you enjoy your concerts.
The next few hours passed somewhat pleasantly with a phone call to my dad. Not that the phone call was bad....it was quite enjoyable to be able to talk to him. The setting, however, could have used a little work. Oh well...I shouldn't complain too much about airports because I'll be spending enough time in them over the course of the next week that I should probably get used to it. And I should probably get comfortable with the idea that this might not be the worst experience possible.
So where does this long journey end? After my flight was delayed 3 times...accompanied with a gate change at the last minute...I finally arrived back in DC. Every time I leave my fair city...I always miss it. The sight of the Capital always puts a smile on my face...because then I know that I am home. This time I was able to see it from the air...quite lovely really.
And now...after a long day...and more coffee than I probably should have drank...I've been up for 20 hours...and I'm nearly wide awake.
Oye. It's a good thing I don't have to go to work tomorrow...
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Even less of a fan of Charles Barkley...
I watched something last night that I wouldn’t typically have watched…except I’m in a hotel with nothing else to do. It was a brief interview with Charles Barkley, and he was asked about what constitutes a sport. To be fair…the interviewer didn’t use the word constitute…probably because he wouldn’t have been able to understand it. He began spouting off different sports that he didn’t think counted as actual “sports.” In this list was poker, Nascar, The Tour de France, and Swimming. Ok…I can kind of understand the first 2, but as a triathlete…I was quite offended about the last 2.
His comment that was that “Lance Armstrong is in really good shape…but all he does is ride a bike.”
I, personally, would like to see Mr. Barkley on a bike…and then see how long he’s able to stay on it before he starts crying because it’s too f’ing hard.
As someone that has recently had to learn how to do 2 of the 3 disciplines of a triathlon…I can tell you…it’s no walk in the park. One of the “jokes” that I have heard about triathlon is that the reason the bike leg is so long is because we spend so much money and time getting our bikes to fit properly, we have to make it worth it. This might not have been the original reason…but I can completely see that this is true. We spend countless hours trying to get the right fit, making minute adjustments that end up making a world of difference when you spend hours on your bike.
I have no doubt about his ability to play basketball. I don’t question that at all. But to question the ability of any endurance athlete is preposterous. There are only certain people in the world that have the mental capacity to become an endurance athlete. Anyone in the world could physically do it, but it’s the mental block that most people cannot overcome.
In my (somewhat biased) opinion…endurance athletes are the toughest athletes in the world. Many of them are competetive…but normally more with themselves than anyone else they are racing against. We do things that many people consider crazy, causing our friends to threaten checking us into an insane asylum. But it’s something that we do because we love it.
This is my sport. And I challenge anyone who thinks that it isn’t a sport to give it a try. See how long you last. But don’t call me when you quit.
Blog Virgin
As the title suggests...this is my very first official blog. So I may have posted some random thoughts before...but nothing official. But here goes.
I'm kind of starting this on a whim because I'm traveling for work right now...and to be honest...I'm a little bored...and need somewhere to channel my brain function for a while that isn't related to work.
As the title to my blog suggests...many people do, in fact, think that I am crazy. One of the main reasons that this is...is that I'm a triathlete. Unofficially. That will change as of this weekend. My first sprint triathlon is this weekend. I have (quite literally) been training my ass off for the past 2 and a half months...and have enjoyed every second of it. Ok...so when I slid on the pavement...not so enjoyable...but I was laughing within 5 minutes of picking myself off the ground. I just can't help it...I've been bitten by the racing bug.
Don't get me wrong...the past few months have been challenging...there have been growing pains. I have been frustrated to the point of hyperventilation and tears. But I have also felt amazing. I have a sense of pride and confidence that I never in my wildest imagination thought I would have. Growing up...you might say that I was the anti-athlete. I was overweight and lazy...and the last person that anyone probably ever thought would ever willingly put my body through such torture.
Last fall/winter when I moved to DC, one of my roommates started talking about this running plan that helps non-runners start to run...and not go overboard. If any non-athletes are interested...it's the Couch to 5k program. I highly recommend it. I played around with it for a couple of months, but had a hard time starting because of the crazy holiday season. Well...starting in January I decided that I was going to get serious about the whole running thing. I started off slow (aka...restarted the entire program) and actually stuck with it. By February, my boss, who is a marathoner, kept urging me to bring my running clothes with me to work so we could go running together. I resisted for a long time because I didn't think that I could keep up with her.
And then, the night I became a runner happened. I remember so many things so clearly about this night. It was a life changing night. Yet it was so simple. One tip changed everything for me. You should be able to talk while you run. Preposterous...right? No. Absolutely not. It was a Monday night. I remember I was wearing my UnderArmour pants, a white fleece zip up. I headed out the door...and started running. Anyone that passed me on The Mall that night probably thought I was crazy because I kept talking to myself...making sure I was able to speak. And I was able to do it. By the time I got done running that night...I had a huge smile on my face. It felt amazing. For the first time...I got it.
The next day, I told my boss that I'd go running with her. We made a date for the next evening after work. She and I, along with another co-worker who is a marathoner headed out. By the end of the run...I couldn't believe it. I just kept running with them, not really paying attention to how far we were running. When we got done, she told me what we had done. The result...5 miles. No joke. I ran 5 miles.
I called my parents that night and left them a message. They were thrilled to hear how excited I was...and how happy I sounded.
Something in my life was starting to make sense. Give me a purpose. I actually enjoyed doing this.
Over the next couple of months...I kept running...and had signed up for a 10K race that was in May. I also met someone who was a triathlete...and he started talking to me about it. He showed me race pictures...forwarded emails to me from his tri team (Team Z!). And my only response was...it looks...fun. I had always thought triathlons looked like fun...and would have loved to do one...but I never thought that I would be able to do something like that. Besides...I wanted to start training for a marathon. Well...he kept talking to me...and finally I decided...I would train for a triathlon.
I requested info from Coach Ed...went to the info session...and then started swimming and bike shopping.
For a little background in the other disciplines of triathlon...I had grown up taking swimming lessons, but never overly serious. And I enjoyed biking...but didn't own a bike. In fact, I had always said that as long as I lived in DC...I wouldn't own a bike because I was terrified of the traffic.
So...I started swimming again...and it wasn't going very well. And I kept bike shopping...and finally found one that when I showed the post to Jeff...his immediate response was "YES!" We made plans to take a look at it that weekend...and when we got there...found exactly what we were looking for. A guy that had done 1 triathlon, had more money than brains, and never wanted to do another triathlon ever again. So I bought the bike...and named him Alejandro.
I have been told that the progression that I've made in the past couple of months in swimming and running has been intense and perhaps almost too fast. Perhaps I'm pushing it a little bit. But that's just me. When I set my mind to do something...I'm all in. Cycling is still proving to be a challenge...and I've definitely paid for the risks that I've taken...remember the sliding on the pavement comment. Yeah...road rash...not so much fun. But you know what? I fell...but I got up...and I survived...and I'm fine. It could have been a lot worse. Plus...the facial bruising only added to my bad ass persona.
I've ran in a couple of races...the 10K in May...which my only goal was to finish. And then I relayed the run leg of an Olympic distance triathlon in June. I completely got hooked. After the race in May, I called Jeff afterward...and was talking a million miles a minute without giving him the opportunity to say anything. When I finally took a breathe, he told me that next race I should probably drink less coffee before. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about...I had only had 1 cup that morning...which at the time was 1 less than I normally drink. His response? "Oh shit." Classic :)
There are many stories...and probably many more reasons that people think I'm crazy. So I hope over the course of our journey you enjoy them. You may laugh...it's possible you may cry...although I hope not too much because I hate to cry. Maybe you'll learn something. And maybe you'll just end up agreeing with the fact that I probably am crazy...
I'm kind of starting this on a whim because I'm traveling for work right now...and to be honest...I'm a little bored...and need somewhere to channel my brain function for a while that isn't related to work.
As the title to my blog suggests...many people do, in fact, think that I am crazy. One of the main reasons that this is...is that I'm a triathlete. Unofficially. That will change as of this weekend. My first sprint triathlon is this weekend. I have (quite literally) been training my ass off for the past 2 and a half months...and have enjoyed every second of it. Ok...so when I slid on the pavement...not so enjoyable...but I was laughing within 5 minutes of picking myself off the ground. I just can't help it...I've been bitten by the racing bug.
Don't get me wrong...the past few months have been challenging...there have been growing pains. I have been frustrated to the point of hyperventilation and tears. But I have also felt amazing. I have a sense of pride and confidence that I never in my wildest imagination thought I would have. Growing up...you might say that I was the anti-athlete. I was overweight and lazy...and the last person that anyone probably ever thought would ever willingly put my body through such torture.
Last fall/winter when I moved to DC, one of my roommates started talking about this running plan that helps non-runners start to run...and not go overboard. If any non-athletes are interested...it's the Couch to 5k program. I highly recommend it. I played around with it for a couple of months, but had a hard time starting because of the crazy holiday season. Well...starting in January I decided that I was going to get serious about the whole running thing. I started off slow (aka...restarted the entire program) and actually stuck with it. By February, my boss, who is a marathoner, kept urging me to bring my running clothes with me to work so we could go running together. I resisted for a long time because I didn't think that I could keep up with her.
And then, the night I became a runner happened. I remember so many things so clearly about this night. It was a life changing night. Yet it was so simple. One tip changed everything for me. You should be able to talk while you run. Preposterous...right? No. Absolutely not. It was a Monday night. I remember I was wearing my UnderArmour pants, a white fleece zip up. I headed out the door...and started running. Anyone that passed me on The Mall that night probably thought I was crazy because I kept talking to myself...making sure I was able to speak. And I was able to do it. By the time I got done running that night...I had a huge smile on my face. It felt amazing. For the first time...I got it.
The next day, I told my boss that I'd go running with her. We made a date for the next evening after work. She and I, along with another co-worker who is a marathoner headed out. By the end of the run...I couldn't believe it. I just kept running with them, not really paying attention to how far we were running. When we got done, she told me what we had done. The result...5 miles. No joke. I ran 5 miles.
I called my parents that night and left them a message. They were thrilled to hear how excited I was...and how happy I sounded.
Something in my life was starting to make sense. Give me a purpose. I actually enjoyed doing this.
Over the next couple of months...I kept running...and had signed up for a 10K race that was in May. I also met someone who was a triathlete...and he started talking to me about it. He showed me race pictures...forwarded emails to me from his tri team (Team Z!). And my only response was...it looks...fun. I had always thought triathlons looked like fun...and would have loved to do one...but I never thought that I would be able to do something like that. Besides...I wanted to start training for a marathon. Well...he kept talking to me...and finally I decided...I would train for a triathlon.
I requested info from Coach Ed...went to the info session...and then started swimming and bike shopping.
For a little background in the other disciplines of triathlon...I had grown up taking swimming lessons, but never overly serious. And I enjoyed biking...but didn't own a bike. In fact, I had always said that as long as I lived in DC...I wouldn't own a bike because I was terrified of the traffic.
So...I started swimming again...and it wasn't going very well. And I kept bike shopping...and finally found one that when I showed the post to Jeff...his immediate response was "YES!" We made plans to take a look at it that weekend...and when we got there...found exactly what we were looking for. A guy that had done 1 triathlon, had more money than brains, and never wanted to do another triathlon ever again. So I bought the bike...and named him Alejandro.
I have been told that the progression that I've made in the past couple of months in swimming and running has been intense and perhaps almost too fast. Perhaps I'm pushing it a little bit. But that's just me. When I set my mind to do something...I'm all in. Cycling is still proving to be a challenge...and I've definitely paid for the risks that I've taken...remember the sliding on the pavement comment. Yeah...road rash...not so much fun. But you know what? I fell...but I got up...and I survived...and I'm fine. It could have been a lot worse. Plus...the facial bruising only added to my bad ass persona.
I've ran in a couple of races...the 10K in May...which my only goal was to finish. And then I relayed the run leg of an Olympic distance triathlon in June. I completely got hooked. After the race in May, I called Jeff afterward...and was talking a million miles a minute without giving him the opportunity to say anything. When I finally took a breathe, he told me that next race I should probably drink less coffee before. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about...I had only had 1 cup that morning...which at the time was 1 less than I normally drink. His response? "Oh shit." Classic :)
There are many stories...and probably many more reasons that people think I'm crazy. So I hope over the course of our journey you enjoy them. You may laugh...it's possible you may cry...although I hope not too much because I hate to cry. Maybe you'll learn something. And maybe you'll just end up agreeing with the fact that I probably am crazy...
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